If You had Another Chance
by Kitty Faerie
Summary: When Jeanne d' Arc was killed, Francis was devastated. When she comes back nearly six hundred years later, he is over-joyed. Now he has another chance at true love and she has a second shot at a life she was never able to have. France/Jeanne not AU
1. An Angel in my House

_**ANOTHER fic from me. I need serious help.**_

**This one is France/Jeanne d' Arc. And unlike most, it doesn't start with her death. It starts with her after-life. ^^ I wanted to do something a little different. So, I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><em>In this world, there are mortals and immortals. Naturally, the mortals die and the immortals do not. Immortals would be the countries, the ones who represent the body of land people occupy. They cannot die unless their land is completely gone and none of their people remain. Unlike the countries, their people can and will die, often unfairly and without reason. This is why immortals and mortals should never interact on a friendly bases. It will only end in heart break.<em>

_However, the so-called nation of love could not and would not listen to the most important unwritten rule. He met a mortal, fell in love with her, and when she died, he was heartbroken beyond belief. Her name was Jeanne._

_Jeanne was a woman who could see and hear me. I gave her instructions and helped her to become a strong woman who would help lead France to victory in the Hundred Years War. Because, let's face it, England was a bully and sometimes the underdogs need to come out on top. However, she had such a devout belief in me, she refused to let France into her heart in any romantic way. She kept her feelings hidden even though I know she wanted to be with him. She was strong, though, and kept me above anyone else. She died when she was nineteen, a happy woman who had served me and her country well._

_Yup, I'm the holy, divine being you pray to (or don't pray to) every night. And yes, I know what you did yesterday. You're forgiven, just don't do it again. It's way too much paperwork to deal with when you go and so something stupid._

_I've had a lot of things to deal with and hey, I still do. I mean, being a divine being isn't all that easy. You've got your bad people and your good people, but there are so many who are in between. It's hard to place them!_

_Anyway, I see Jeanne everyday looking over France, making sure he's safe and happy. When he's not, she's upset. When he is, she's happy. She doesn't need to put up a wall up here. She doesn't need to be strong like she had to be on Earth. She still tries, though, and it breaks my holy heart to see her upset and trying to hide it. _

_So, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to bring her back. Yup, I'm going to bring her back from the dead and give her another chance at a happy, love filled life. I think she deserves it, don't you? So, I guess you could call this the story of how Jeanne found a better life. Personally, I like to call it Holy Divine Being: 1 Satan: 0. Because I'd like to see _him_ bring someone back from the dead._

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><p>It was a normal day for Francis Bonnefoy, the personification of the nation of France. He had gone into the city to meet with his boss over a glass of wine and some cheese before having a nice lunch at a small bistro. He then went back to his office and did some paperwork before packing up and heading home. He stopped and got some groceries so he could make a nice supper when he got back to his house. It was slightly late, but he didn't mind.<p>

Driving home, he hummed to himself, a smile ever present on his face. He couldn't help it—he was just a happy person. He always had a smile on his face. Perhaps it was his personally, but it was also a very good mask. By always smiling, he could hide the hurt he often felt.

As a nation, he was immortal. His people, who were humans, were not. This was a lesson he had to learn the hard way during the Hundred Years War when he lost one of the most important people in his life.

Her name was Jeanne, Jeanne d' Arc. She was young, but strong. She had come to him and King Charles claiming to have visions of God who was telling her how to help win the war. It took a little bit, but they finally believed her. Charles gave her about five thousand men to march to Orleans.

Francis, of course, accompanied her on the way. He rode next to her and couldn't believe the faith and courage this young girl had. She wasn't afraid of what she was going into. She knew she could be killed easily. She was a woman, an easy target. Still, she had much faith in God and in her country. She even managed to raise the spirits of the soldiers.

When they made camp, Francis had some time to talk to her. He found out about her life, her family, and her ideas. She turned out to be a strong woman who wasn't about to take crap from anyone. While she wouldn't use vulgar language like the others, she could handle a sword like no one else. When she practice with Francis, she nearly killed him. Realizing that Francis' fencing skills were way below par, she took the time to teach him how to properly use a sword. After a while, he got quite good with the sword thanks to her teaching.

When she was injured in battle, he noticed how she didn't want to be helped. She wanted to be patched up and go right back into the heat of the battle. It took everything to convince her to take a break before going back. It wasn't a serious injury, but it was then that Francis realized how much he wanted to protect her. It was was almost funny how she had been sent by God to protect him when all he wanted to do was protect her.

This led to many arguments over whether or not she should fight. Francis didn't want to see her get hurt and she didn't want to see him get hurt. Somewhere along the line, they realized they had feelings for each other that were greater than just friendship. He wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with her, but she refused. She had devoted herself to God and God alone. He respected her wish to just be friends, though it made him quite upset.

When she died, he was heartbroken. She had been captured and handed over to the English who burned her at the stake. He was there, he saw her. And he couldn't believe how calm she was. She stood there with a calm smile on her face as though she knew a secret. She held the cross proudly and called out to Jesus before she died. She hadn't shed a tear. Francis cried enough for ten people.

It was when he let out a small hiccup that he realized he had been crying. He quickly brushed the tears from his eyes and shook his head to try and get back to focusing on the road. By the time his eyes were clear again, he noticed someone standing in front of his car. He was only going about twenty miles an hour down the street next to his own, but he skidded to a halt a tad too late. He was down to less than two miles an hour when he bumped into the person with the car.

He scrambled out, slamming the door behind him reflexively as he ran to the person. "I am so, so sorry! Are you alright?"

The person looked up at him before standing. She was a girl, no older than nineteen. In the dim lighting, he couldn't really make out her facial features, but he could tell her hair was blonde and her eyes some shade of blue. She rubbed her head and nodded right away.

"I am fine," she said before looking at him for a moment. Her eyes widened in what only could have been recognition, but she said nothing else. Francis noticed the look and felt that the girl seemed familiar, but couldn't quite place it. He still ran to her and checked the back of her head.

"Your head is bleeding a little," Francis commented. "Come along, I will patch that right up for you." He then realized what he had said. It was an innocent offer, but he knew she would reject it. No one in this day and age ran off with some random person they had just been hit by.

She, however, was different. "I said I am fine," she sighed. "But alright." Now thinking about it, Francis could tell she seemed a little tired. He hurried her to the car and helped her into the passenger's seat when she didn't seem to know what to do. He then got in himself and drove home.

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><p>She simply couldn't believe it. He was here, right in front of her and yet he could not recognize her. Why would he, though? They had known each other hundreds of years ago. Now he had surely moved on as she had told him to.<p>

Jeanne sat on Francis' couch in his wonderfully fashioned home with some sort of cold pouch pressed to her head. He had confirmed her suspicions by introducing himself. She had managed to get around saying who she was. He really didn't recognize her and it hurt, but she could tell he was happy with this life. She wasn't about to infringe on it. She would just get cleaned up and go... Someplace. She still had no idea where she was going to to.

Francis came back into the living room with two small tablets. "I imagine you have a headache. So, here's some Aspirin to dull the pain."

"I'm fine," Jeanne said for what seemed like the thousandth time. She didn't want to accept help from anyone, especially not from him. She had to be strong for him as she always was. She kept searching him, hoping that he would recognize her. Unfortunately, it never happened.

However, what she didn't realize was that Francis was studying her intently. She looked so much like her, he couldn't believe it. Her eyes were the same shade of blue, her hair the same golden blonde. She even had the same attitude. It was too good to be true, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. It was impossible and he didn't want to risk breaking down in front of this poor woman.

"I insist," he said. "Please, I can tell you are tired and probably in pain. I am truly sorry for that. I could take you home if you'd like after I get the bandage on." He didn't realize that the pain wasn't from being knocked down, it was a side effect of being brought back to life. It tends to be very physically draining she Jeanne was suffering the worst of it, not that she'd ever admit that. He also didn't realize that she didn't have a home, so there was no place for him to take her.

"I am fine and..." she didn't know what to say or how to lie about a home she didn't have. "I can walk myself home."

"_Non_, it is far too late," Francis said, shaking his head. "I will take you home. Let me just get the bandage on." Not wanting to hear another 'no,' he took the off white bandage and sat down on the couch next to the girl. He placed one hand on her shoulder to steady her before bringing it up to start wrapping the bandage. He moved her hand aside and brushed away her hair to find the slightly reddened cut. Pressing down, he started to wrap the bandage around like a headband around the back of her head and forehead.

"All done," he finally said. She nodded and he was slightly surprised. He had thought she had fallen asleep when she didn't wince from the pressure applied to the injury.

"Thank you," she mumbled out and stood. He looked up at her and couldn't believe how much she looked like Jeanne. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he wouldn't allow himself to cry in front of her. He just wanted to get her out of the house now.

"No problem," he said. "Are you sure you do not want me to take you home?" Now he was hoping the answer was no.

She sighed and shook her head lightly, not wanting to aggravate the headache. "_Non_. I am fine. Thank you for helping me." She looked at him for another moment before turning away and heading for the door. If he didn't recognize her, she wasn't going to make him. It would only bring back bad memories that she was certain he didn't want to remember. He probably wanted to forget about her.

He got up and walked with her to the door. "No problem at all," he said, putting on a fake smile. He then paused. "Might I ask... What is your name?"

"Why would you want to know that?"

Francis was slightly taken aback by the question. Why did he want to know her name? So that he could cry harder once she left? It wouldn't be worth it, but he had to know. The small amount of belief that was left was dying to know.

"You... Remind me of someone I know... Knew. I'm sorry." He looked and saw her smirking at him. Of all the expressions he expected to see after that little confession, he wasn't expecting to see her smirk at him.

"I remind you of someone?" she asked. He nodded. "Perhaps... Jeanne d' Arc?"

His eyes widened. "How did you...?"

She then smiled at him. "So you do recognize me. It's me, Francis. Jeanne."

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><p><em>I was surprised he hadn't recognized her from the beginning, or at least wouldn't give into the probability of it being her. At least that's resolved now. Francis, it's up to you to make her happy. Whatever happens, I know you're the only one who truly can. She's a strong woman, but inside, there's a young girl who needs someone to love and love her back. If anyone can do it, it's you.<em>

_And if anyone can screw it up... That's also you!_

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><p><strong>Yes, I am writing as God -smirks-<strong>

**So, this fic documents her new life with Francis in modern times. This was just the beginning chapter, but you can already see that she doesn't like being helped and is a good fighter. I'm nervous about writing this simply because I don't want her to seem like a Mary Sue. She is not. Promise~**

**Also, I know NO French. Google translate is my only option at the moment. Feel free to correct it.**

**Please review~ I love reviews! They make me so super happy~**


	2. Losing Her Again

_Coming right out and saying it was probably the best course of action Jeanne could have taken with someone like Francis. I must warn you, though, Francis, she is going to be a tough one to keep a hold of. She is independent and doesn't want to lose that. She is stubborn and won't accept your help easily. But underneath that tough exterior, there is a girl who needs to be loved._

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><p>Francis took a step back and his eyes widened in complete and utter shock. His mind simply couldn't wrap around the fact that the girl standing in front of him was Jeanne d' Arc, the girl who had saved him from England and was burned at the stake in 1431. Everything about this girl screamed Jeanne. Her hair, her eyes, her attitude. Francis couldn't think of anyone else who would have rejected help after getting hit by a car (even if it was just a light bump) and would have refused a ride home at such a late hour.<p>

"Y-You... Y-You're..." Usually, he was very eloquent and could talk his way through anything. He had all the words, but now he was speechless, the words having fled him.

Jeanne sighed and nodded. "You look like a fish for the Lord's sakes. Close your mouth before bugs get in." Yes, same old Jeanne. "Yes, Francis, it is me. Jeanne. How many times would you like me to say it?"

Francis simply stared at her. "I..." He stopped and rubbed his head. "I'm sorry, _Mademoiselle_. I think you might have hit your head a little too hard there. Let me just take you home." He simply couldn't believe it. She had died over six hundred years before and now she was standing in his living room? It was simply too impossible.

Jeanne glared at the Frenchman before her. "How dare you infer you don't believe me," she snapped. "My proper name is Jeanne d' Arc. I am from Domrémy. I saw visions of God and lead troops to Orleans to face the English in a battle which we won."

The other paused and looked at her for a moment. "Anyone could have looked that information up."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. "Just like _everyone_ knows that you are the personification of the nation of France and that all nations have personifications."

His eyes widened at that. No human knew that except the ones closet to him. His boss, his top generals in war... And Jeanne. "You really are..."

"Of course I am! Do you need a building to fall on you? And I have yet to even get a proper hello. Instead I am greeted by your disbelief." She sighed and rolled her eyes, but when she looked back at Francis she was smiling. "You're the same as ever."

Francis spoke no more and quickly ran forward. He pulled the girl into his arms and held her close. She stiffened at the sudden action, but the Frenchman could hardly tell. He ran his fingers through the familiar hair. As his hands moved down her back (not in a sexual way, but enough to make the girl uncomfortable), Jeanne pulled out of the hug.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" she asked. "I can tell I have missed a lot."

"Yes... It has been..." he mumbled in disbelief. A long time? Try six hundred years. To a nation, six hundred years was nothing. To a heartbroken man, it was eternity. He paused and studied her. "But... How?"

"Honestly, I do not know," she admitted. "The last thing I remember is God telling me I deserve a second chance at life. Then, I woke up in some park and started walking... And then you hit me." She was also completely drained, but wouldn't let him know that. Her pride prevented her from letting people know when something was wrong. However, Francis knew her well and even after so many years, he could tell when something was wrong.

"Are you alright, _mon ami_?" he asked when he noticed her eyes start to droop and her body start to sway uneasily.

"I-I'm fine!" She insisted and he rolled his eyes. She glared at him, upset that he didn't believe her, even if it wasn't true. When she started to sway forward, he held onto her shoulders to help steady her.

"I think you need some rest, _cher_," Francis said softly. "You look completely exaughsted and I will not have you fainting in my home. Come, I have a spare room that you may use." Jeanne opened her mouth to protest, but the headache combined with Francis' gaze told her she couldn't refuse the offer. Reluctantly, she followed him upstairs, but refused to allow him to help her walk.

He showed her to the simply guest room at the end of the hall next to his own room and the bathroom. It was decorated in only the finest fabrics and designs. His house was fashionable what with France being a country known for fashion.

Jeanne looked around in amazement at everything she saw. The room was lavish, like that of a king or queen. She had never set foot in a room so nice, never mind being allowed to sleep there. Though, some of the fabric wasn't the most expensive, the television was quite small, and the carpet had a few wine stains, it all looked to regal to her.

"Do you like it?" Francis asked, a small smirk dancing on his lips. He knew the moment he stepped foot in this room that Jeanne would find it amazing. He watched as her eyes attempted to take in the sight of the wonderful room and smiled to himself. He was waiting to wake up, to have his alarm go off and suddenly find himself back in his bedroom, his cheeks stained with tears at the memories. It had happened many times before, so it was hard to believe that this was real.

"Yes..." Jeanne finally managed to say. "It truly is. Thank you for allowing me to stay here, Francis." She offered the smallest of smiles before returning to feeling the soft quilt on the bed. Judging by his surprise, she must have been gone many years. She wasn't sure how long, though, and found herself acting just like she had when she was last alive. There had been a few times she had stayed at Francis' house, often before heading out to train or march to battle. To her, now was no different than then, but to Francis, it was simply amazing.

"Of course you can stay here, _cher_. My home is your home." He shot her a bright smile and she nodded.

"Yes, but tomorrow I will get out of your hair." The times she stayed with Francis would usually last no more than a night, maybe two. Sure, when she left she usually had someplace to go, but she was so used to that routine, she wasn't expecting to stay longer than that. Plus, her pride refused to allow her to accept the help Francis wanted to give.

However, the comment made the Frenchman frown. "Jeanne, I know you do not have a place to stay. So, please, you are welcome here as long as you would like. And I do not want you wandering about the streets of Paris alone, with nowhere to go!"

Jeanne opened her mouth to protest, but yawned instead. With a sigh, she simply nodded, not intending to listen to Francis at all. "Very well, whatever. I am going to bed."

"Ah, of course. Let me go get you some night clothes." He left before Jeanne could refuse the clothes and returned with some mismatched clothing from his drawers. He handed her a blue t-shirt and grey sweatpants that could be adjusted to fit her waist. She took the clothes and studied them, not recognizing the fabric, style, or bright colors. Come to think of it, Francis was dressed rather odd. She looked down at her long brown skirt that went to her ankles and white blouse that covered everything up to her wrists. The t-shirt, though it would be large on her, wouldn't go past her elbow.

"I have never seen clothes like these before," She commented as she unfolded the shirt and held it up. Francis smiled at her.

"Clothing styles have changed over the years. Now we are... Not so modest and our clothes are brighter and, I think, much nicer." He paused and looked at her outfit. "I shall take you shopping, if you would like." He smiled to himself at the thought of her in a pretty dress or a shorter skirt. He wasn't thinking in a perverted way, but did think she would look nice in more modern clothes.

"I can see and no, that won't be necessary." Part of her didn't want to know what other modern clothes were like based on the description Francis gave, and she didn't want to take money from him. Clothes cost money and that was something she didn't have. Francis sighed, but nodded, intending to change her mind later.

"Very well, then. I will leave you be. Now, get some rest. You look exhausted." Jeanne nodded and Francis left the room. She pulled on the clothes he had given her and found them odd, but comfortable. She then pulled back the covers and climbed into the softest bed she had ever laid in before. It wasn't long until she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Unlike Jeanne, Francis couldn't sleep. He went downstairs, had a glass of wine and then went back up. Every half hour, he found himself opening the door of the guest room, just to make sure Jeanne was still there. The most surprising thing; she was.

He simply couldn't believe that after almost six hundred years, Jeanne was back in his life. But here she was, in his house, sleeping his his guestroom. The girl who had stolen his heart and then died at the hands of someone he now respects was back.

She had told him to move on before she died. She never realized he had feelings for her, but seeing him so upset, she knew that their friendship was strong. How Francis wished he could have said something to her! How he wished he could have told her how she truly felt!

In the years that followed her death, Francis went on many dates and had many one night stand with humans and nations alike. If you asked the nations how many other them were virgins (and had some way of making them completely truthful), most would raise their hands. If you asked how many had sex with Francis before, nearly that same amount would keep their hands up. Still, no matter who he slept with, man or woman, none ever compared to the feelings he had for Jeanne. He always felt stupid after a long night of lust for he would have sex with someone he didn't care about and yet had never had sex with the one person he truly loved.

With a sigh, he was finally able to drift into an uneasy and nervous sleep. What if this was all a dream? What if he woke up and she was gone? This was so real, he didn't know if he would be able to handle finding out it was all a dream.

During the night, he would wake up almost every hour. Finally, at about five in the morning, he fell asleep and stayed asleep until about nine. He woke up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before getting changed. Tying his hair back with a ribbon, he went downstairs to start breakfast. While the food was cooking, he rushed upstairs again and went to the guestroom door. It was closed and he took a deep breath before opening it, his heart thumping nervously.

He opened the door and found a small lump in the middle of the bed. A young woman was asleep in the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, wrinkling as she held them in place around her. She was on her side and her face was relaxed, beautiful, in Francis' opinion. It wasn't often that Jeanne seemed relaxed. With a sigh of relief, he entered the room and closed the blinds quietly so the morning sun wouldn't bother her. He then left, closing the door, and went downstairs.

He ended up eating and cleaning up which took until about ten. He went upstairs to check on Jeanne again, then took a shower out of boredom and anxiety, and finally went downstairs to watch television. Or, rather, look at the television, as his mind was on other things.

Finally, at a little after eleven thirty, he heard the sound of feet tapping the hard wood staircases of his home. He turned around and smiled, seeing Jeanne come downstairs for the first time that day. The t-shirt was all wrinkled and she rubbed her eyes as she came down.

"Ah, good morning, _mon ange_," Francis smiled, standing up in respect. Jeanne looked at him and glared, not liking being called and angel.

"Good morning, Francis... What time is it?" she asked, looking around. The sun hadn't seemed to be coming in the room and she couldn't read the digital clock at the bedside. So, she couldn't be sure what time it really was.

"A little after eleven thirty. Did you sleep alright?" Jeanne's eyes widened in shock.

"Eleven thirty? In the morning? _Mon Dieu, _it's almost afternoon!" Jeanne was used to waking up early, at seven or even before then, to take care of the sheep and get her morning chores done. She felt simply horrible about sleeping the day away.

"_Oui_ but it is alright, Jeanne. I understand that you were tired." Francis offered her a small smile. "Would you like something to eat? I image you would be starving." Jeanne nodded, not wanting to admit that she was famished and could eat a whole horse!

Francis led her into the kitchen where he offered her a seat at the island in the center of the room. He then got out some cooking supplies and proceeded to make her a nice lunch. Jeanne protested, saying that he didn't need to go to extensive lengths to fill her empty stomach. Francis wouldn't listen to her, though, and made her breaded chicken with a special ranch dressing. He set it in front of her and, though she wanted to complain about him making something so nice, she couldn't resist his cooking. It was simply amazing. She would yell at him, call him an idiot, call him weak, but the one thing she couldn't scold him about was his cooking.

Though he had just eaten a few hours before, he sat down and ate with her, watching with happiness as a small smile graced her lips. It was just like back then when he would cook for her. No matter what kind of mood she was in, his cooking always made her smile.

When she was done, she insisted on doing the dishes and asked when the water bin was. Francis laughed at that, angering her, and showed her the sink.

"Where is the water?" she asked, glancing around at the sink with confusion.

"It's right here, _cher_," Francis chuckled, tapping the faucet. At her disbelieving look, he turned the cold water handle towards them and water started to gush out from the faucet. She jumped back a little with surprise before staring at the amazing new technology. She then started to wash the dishes, smiling at how quickly they were cleaned with the pressure from the water.

Francis noticed her using a lot more elbow grease than was needed and laughed a little. He took the plate from her and opened a small door just to the right of the sink. "This is the dishwasher. All you have to do now is rinse off the plate and place it in here. Then, it will wash the dish so it is sparkling clean!"

"How do you know it really cleans the plates?" she asked suspiciously. Francis blinked.

"Well, I am not sure how it works exactly. But my plates and silverware are very clean when they come out." She decided not to argue much further and finished washing all the dishes.

When she was done, she went upstairs to the bathroom to freshen up, then went to the guestroom to make the bed. She changed back into her blouse and long skirt before folding up the clothes Francis had let her borrow and set them on the dresser in his room. She then went downstairs where Francis was waiting on the couch.

"Now, what would you like to do, _mon ami_?" he asked, smiling up at her.

"I was actually going to take my leave now," she responded. "_Merci_ for letting me stay here the night." Francis jumped up, blocking her as she made her way to the door. Her eyes narrowed at him in a glare. "Francis, what are you doing?" she asked harshly.

"You can't leave, Jeanne. The world has changed much more than you think and it is dangerous for a young girl such as yourself to go wandering around alone," he reasoned. "Please, you can stay here as long as you need."

"What? Are you saying that Jeanne d' Arc, the girl who led your army into battle and won can't handle herself? How dare you! I will be just fine. I don't need to stay here any longer."

"Then, where are you going to go, Jeanne? You do not have a house nor any money to help you get by. You can't just go running about the streets with nothing to your name!" Francis pleaded with his eyes, trying to get the stubborn girl to stay, but she was having none of it.

"I'll be fine. Now, goodbye Francis." She shoved him aside and marched out the door. Her pride simply refused to allow Francis to help her, even though she desperately needed help in this day and age. Francis knew he could do nothing except watch her go, feeling as though he had lost her a second time.

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><p><em>Oh, Francis. You know you must hold onto her tighter than you have been. Her pride is huge and she won't admit that she does need you. She is stubborn, but she does need you now, just as you needed her all those years ago. Don't just watch her, go after her for goodness sakes! Who knows the trouble she could get into alone on the streets of a city she knows nothing about! If you don't want to lose her a second time, then don't let her go. Only you can bring her back. So, go get her!<em>

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><p><strong>Okay, the way I portray Jeanne is stubborn, agressive, and prideful. I really hope you don't mind. I simply don't see her as someone who loves cute things and is so super cute and blushblush France, I love you~~ <strong>

**She was a woman. In the 1400s. Who was in a war. She's got to have a backbone. 'Tsundere' might be a good term to describe her, if you're looking to label her as something.**

**Anyway, thank you for the reviews! They mean a whole lot! Please, keep them coming!**


	3. Rain

_The world has changed a lot between the time that Jeanne was last alive and now. There is no one on the street corners offering you free bread and a place to spend the night when you have no place else to go. The world has turned cold and mean, I have seen it myself. That isn't to say that people weren't mean back in the 1400s, but you had a better chance of finding kind inn owners who would take you in for a day in return for helping with supper or cleaning the stalls. _

_As much as she wants to be independent, Jeanne has no idea what she is walking into. While she is strong and stubborn, she is still nineteen at heart and while she is mature, she is naive._

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><p>The sun shone high in the air as Jeanne walked briskly through the streets. She was angry that Francis had tried to stop her from leaving, though deep down she knew that she should have stayed. After an hour passed, she realized that she really didn't have anywhere to go. She didn't have any money to her name and she didn't have any way of making that money now. She searched and searched, but couldn't find any stables or places where she could find work. All she saw were those stupid cars that nearly ran her over many times.<p>

She walked through the inner city, not realizing that it wasn't the best part of town. She didn't know the crime rates and didn't realize there was a reason why not many people were out in the open around here.

She turned a corner and was met with a rough hand forcing her into an old brick building. Caught off guard, she wasn't able to fight back right away and when she finally regained her senses, she wasn't able to move her arms or legs. She looked up and glared, finding herself surrounded by six dirty looking boys. Four were holding down her arms and legs and the other two were looking evilly at her.

"Well, well, well," one grinned. "Look what we have here. What's a pretty little lady like you doing around here?" Jeanne turned her head, showing that she wasn't about to answer. This went back to being captured and having someone try to force secrets out of her. She was tough and wasn't about to speak.

However, this earned her a harsh slap across the face. "You'd better talk to us, miss. Or we're gonna do worse than just rob you," the second snapped. Jeanne looked up at them, one cheek red and turned the other. This only made the boys even angrier and they held her with more force.

"What? Think you're some sort of saint?" the first yelled. "Well, you ain't! But you'll be meeting God soon enough." He smirked and pulled out a simple, sharp knife. Jeanne looked back up at them and saw the knife. She was frightened, but wouldn't show it or admit it.

"Let me go," she growled. The boys just laughed.

"What makes you think we're gonna do that?" one laughed.

"Because I will not hesitate to hurt you."

"Big words for such a small lady. How do you plan on doing that?"

Jeanne fell silent. She was strong and could hold her own. But against six strong boys who all probably had knives or some type of weapon, she had a very slim chance of winning against them. Still, she wasn't about to back down. That just simply wasn't in her personality. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and prayed to God before jerking violently. This caused two of the boys holding down her arms to release her. She swung her left arm back and punched the boy holding her left leg out of the way, then kicked the other holding down her right leg.

She was free, but only for a moment.

The six came charging at her. She was able to fight three of them away, but the other three managed to dodge her. She extended her arm to hit the one with the knife, but he dodged and dug the sharp blade into her shoulder. She grunted and winced, but refused to actually yelp, though it hurt. She had been stabbed before; she just had to remind herself that this wasn't any different, even if it was.

Still refusing to back down, she brought up her leg and kicked back the one with the knife. This one was obviously the 'leader' of the gang as the other two looked back at him. This gave her enough time to run. She didn't want to run for a fight, that wasn't like her. But she could tell that she had no chance of winning and would rather have her pride wounded than get hurt any more.

Jeanne took off down the streets, but soon heard the pattering of feet behind her. Stealing a glance back, she could tell that a few, if not all, of the boys were following her. She sped up, running until her lungs burned, praying to God that she could outrun them. She was a fast runner, not Olympic fast, but faster than many. The boys were hot on her trail, but they weren't quite caught up with her.

Using her last burst of speed, she crashed into a forest in what seemed to be a park. This was where she hoped to lose them. She heard the cracking of branches both under her feet and the bright sun burned down on her mercilessly, but she wasn't going to give up. She would rather drop dead from running too much than stop and throw her hands up in surrender.

Thankfully, after ten minutes of all-out sprinting, she could only hear the cracking of branches beneath her own feet. She had lost her attackers and soon found herself in the back end of a deserted park.

The tall trees of the woods had shielded her and she had no clue what the weather would be like on the other end. She had expected it to be sunny, just as it had been when she entered the woods. However, that wasn't the case. A light drizzle was falling and she could hear thunder in the distance.

Sighing, she finally slowed down to a walk, her heart hammering as the muscle tried to keep up with its energetic master. She sat down heavily on a bench, seeing black spots dot her vision. She blinked them away as best she could. She had to tend to the stab wound before she fell asleep.

She gingerly pealed back the shoulder of her white blouse and saw the bleeding and red wound. At one point, it had obviously been gushing as the red mixed with the pale white of her skin all the way down to her lower arm. Now, though, most of that blood had dried and, while her shoulder was still bleeding, it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

She ripped off a piece of her skit and pressed it to her bleeding shoulder, wincing as the pressure turned to pain. She dabbed at it before feeling she couldn't sit up anymore. She laid down on the bench just as the thunder cracked and the rain came pouring down.

"Wonderful," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "_Dieu_, if that idiot found me like this, he'd never let me live it down." After another moment, she fell into an uncomfortable sleep as the rain pattered on her tired body and thunder roared in the distance.

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><p>It was when the rain started that Francis couldn't take it any longer. He was going to wait until she came to her senses and returned to his house, but he realized that she was far too stubborn to do such a thing. Now it was raining and the odds of her finding shelter were slim. He had to find her before she got hurt or worse.<p>

Slipping on his coat, he grabbed an umbrella and his keys before rushing outside into the rain. Thankfully, while the rain was freezing, the wind wasn't bad so the umbrella didn't blow away. However, the rain made visibility pretty bad.

Forgetting about his own safety, he jumped into his car and sped out of the driveway and onto the rain-soaked streets. He slowly drove down each and every suburban street to see if she was wandering around there. When he saw she wasn't, he pulled onto a busier street and flew down, trying to avoid other cars at the same time he was desperately scanning for any sign of Jeanne.

He looked all around his small town and Paris for five hours. He drove through the rich neighborhoods and the bad ones, even the one that Jeanne had been in before. Sometimes he would park and get out to look around, but he never saw her.

Finally, he made his way to a small park he had never been to before simply because it was in another town he never had any reason to visit. He parked the car and jumped out, shouting her name desperately, his voice hoarse from doing the same thing for the past few hours.

Maybe it had just been a figment of his imagination. Maybe he had been hallucinating and Jeanne had never actually been there. Maybe she wasn't real, that she was actually dead, and she wasn't alive in this world any longer.

But no. He had seen her with his own eyes. He had touched her, hugged her, smelled her. She _was_ real. She had to be. He didn't know if he could handle her _not_ being real.

As the wind started to pick up again, he hugged his jacket close to himself and shivered. Even if it hadn't been raining, the sky would have been growing dark. It was six in the evening and Francis knew he had to head home. Still, he wanted to search a little longer, so he made a plan in his head to go to the center of this town and then try the next one over.

He trudged back through the park when he saw a little lump on a bench. His hopes picking up, he walked over, afraid to find just an animal or discarded clothes. However, as he got closer, the lump became a person and the person became Jeanne. Happy beyond belief, he darted forward and knelt by the bench, shaking Jeanne roughly, not seeing the wound right away.

"Jeanne! Jeanne!" he shouted. "Jeanne, wake up! _S'il vous plaît_!" After another moment of being shaken, the girl opened her eyes and coughed. The world was blurry for her, the rain not helping in the least. She looked up into the worry, sky blue eyes of Francis and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by coughing. Francis frowned and rubbed her back, noticing even in the darkness that her skin was paler except for her cheeks which were unusually flushed red.

"Jeanne, it's me. I'm here, alright? I'm going to take you home and get you warmed up and I am _not_ taking no for an answer," Francis said Jeanne could do was nod. Francis stood to pick her up when he finally noticed the browned blood that stained her pure white blouse. As gently as he could manage, he picked her up, noticing her wincing and shivering unconsciously.

Jeanne couldn't think or feel anything except for pain and cold. Had she been in her right mind, she would have hated the position she was in and would try anything to get out of it, even if it hurt her. But the moment she was set into the warm car, she fell asleep, still clutching her shoulder. Francis looked at her worriedly before starting the car and speeding down the streets and across town, back to his own town, and to his house.

He parked and got her out of the car quickly, running her inside. He grabbed all the towels he had and sat her up on the couch as he dried her off. He pealed off her skirt and blouse, keeping her, thankfully, mostly dry undergarments on her. She would not be happy to know that Francis had changed her, but there was nothing she could do now and Francis had no other choice.

He dried Jeanne off completely and put her in a warm cotton t-shirt of his and the same long sweatpants before pulling down the shoulder of the shirt to look at her wound. It wasn't bleeding any longer, but he had to clean it so it wouldn't get infected. He got out the first aid kid and started to patch up she shoulder, cleaning off Jeanne's bloodied arm at the same time.

Finally, she was clean and dry, much to Francis' relief. He picked her up again and carried her up to the guest room. He pulled back the blankets and tucked her in, pressing a hand to her brow. She was burning up, having been out in the rain far too long. With a sigh, he got a damp cloth and placed it across her forehead, then pulled up a chair. He planned on staying with her all night.

He watched her even breaths make the blankets rise and fall and felt an unbelievable sense of relief wash over him. She was safe. Feverish and injured, but safe. He had been so scared, it was almost as bad as he felt when she had been killed.

As he ran a hand through her hair, he realized he was shaking and took a deep breath to try to calm himself. He was close to tears with happiness and relief, but mostly wanted to dry off himself and go to sleep. Standing up, he left the room for just a moment to dry and change, but returned to Jeanne's side right away.

Taking her hand, he laid his head down on the edge of the bed. He had his angel back. She was here in his house and nothing was going to take her away again. As much as she probably didn't want to be protected, he was going to keep her safe. He was going to protect his angel.

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><p><em>Good job Francis. You have her back now. But will you be able to keep that promise? It's a pretty big one to make. I'll do my best, but you two will have to pull your own weight. <em>

_But let me warn you, Francis. Jeanne isn't the best patient in the world. She will try to say she isn't sick, that she isn't hurt, that she doesn't need any help. She independent and it's hard for her to accept help. Just hold her tight and don't let her go and you two will be on your way to a long and happy life together. Just like I intended..._

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><p><strong>And here is chapter 3~<strong>

**Ugh, I don't like it too much, but it's needed to get the plot on the road...**

**Thank you for all the compliments on the story! I spent hours on Jeanne's bio, so it means a lot that you her!**

**I will be updating other stories soon. Also, follow me on tumblr~ I'm kittyfaeriex . tumblr . com **

**PLEASE review! I will never ask for -blank- reviews til next update, but they are still nice! So please help support me and my story!**


	4. Friends

_Yes, now you have her back, Francis. But how stubborn will she be having to be taken care of? Be firm but gentle, as you would with a child. Oh! But don't treat her like a child! She doesn't like that much. I'm sure you'll be fine..._

_What? Just because I'm God that means I can't lie?_

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><p>When Francis woke up the next morning, Jeanne was still asleep, her face flushed with a fever. He got up right away and replaced the cloth on her head to try to bring it down before going downstairs to make breakfast. He had decided that if she wasn't awake by eleven, he would try to wake her himself. And if she still didn't wake up, he would take her to a hospital, but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.<p>

He started to cook a nice breakfast of pancakes with fruit as a side and a glass of milk for a drink. Only the best ingredients went into the small meal, something that Francis was very proud of. He wasn't putting up an act to seem like a wonderful host in front of Jeanne. No, he normally had wonderful food. He was an amazing cook, partly because he only bought the very best.

His mind drifted to Jeanne and why she had come back. It was her, he knew it. Her eyes, her smile, her... Everything was perfect. Well, perfect to him. God had given her another chance... Another chance at what? At life? At love... At love...?

He wasn't going to deny it to himself; he had always been in love with her. He loved her when she was alive in the 1400s. He loved her when she led his army against the English. And he loved her up to the day she died and beyond.

However, she made it clear that she didn't return the feelings. At least that's how she came across to Francis. She explained to him that because of her religion and devotion to God, she could not return any feelings he had for her. It nearly broke Francis' heart right there, but he lived with being just friends.

He shook his head and returned to flipping the pancakes onto a plate. Now was not the time to dwell in the past. Yes, Jeanne was here. Yes, she was in his guestroom asleep, but he had to keep focused. Because while she was back, she was also sick and injured and Francis had to make sure he took care of what was most important first. He had to take care of her.

"_An arm wound. You'll be alright, but just take it easy. The other troops are handling themselves just fine."_

"_Good. Get it fixed. And then I'm going back out there."_

"_Jeanne—"_

"_I'm going back out there, Francis! Just bandage my arm and let me go."_

"_Jeanne, you're injured. Just relax and let me take care of you."_

"_I don't need to be taken care of, Francis, patch up my arm now or I'm going back out there with blood dripping down my arm."_

"_You don't have to do this..."_

"_Yes I do. For my country and for God. It is my duty."_

"_... Very well."_

But this was where the problem would lie. Jeanne had never been the best patient in the world. She did not like being taken care of and even in a society where the woman was submissive, she had a strong will and was stubborn. When she was injured in the battles of Orleans, she did everything she could just to return the field. Francis never liked that she would attempt to push herself so far, but there wasn't much he could do about the strong willed girl. And while that aggravated him, it also made him grow attracted to her sense of adventure and devotion.

He sighed and placed the plates of food on a small wooden tray he managed to find. It folded, so it was perfect for breakfast in bed. He got some water from the fridge and poured it into a glass and set it down. Searching in his cabinets, he found small bottles of pills for colds and fevers, so he picked out a bottle of Advil for fevers. With everything set, he plucked a rose from a plant on his windowsill and washed it of dirt before setting it across the pancakes in the center of the tray. Perfect. Balancing everything perfectly, he brought it upstairs.

Jeanne was lying on her back asleep right where Francis had last seen her. Her breathing was even and her face wasn't as pale. He set the tray down on the nightstand and felt Jeanne's forehead with the back of his hand. Warm, rather warm, but... Perhaps the hand trick wasn't good enough. They do say that the lips are actually the most sensitive part of the body and will detect a fever better than hands.

With a smirk and a devious plan in his mind, Francis leaned over the bed and lightly brushed her dark golden bangs from her face. They were damp, not wet, so she wasn't sweating like she had been before. He pressed his lips to her forehead and paused. Hot. Very hot. Not horribly hot, but hot enough to make him worry. Though, he already was worried. Now he was even more worried. But that would make him more worried than he needed to be... Hmm...

His lips still pressed to her forehead, he opened his eyes and was met with deep blue ones, a shade lighter than his own. They were dulled with sleepiness which quickly turned to confusion which eventually turned to anger. Francis felt himself being shoved away from the bed and looked at Jeanne to see her sitting up, awake, and not too happy as she wiped her forehead, though it wasn't wet from the kiss.

"What do you think you were doing?" Jeanne shouted at him and quickly broke into a fit of coughs as she doubled over. They were dry, hard coughs that did nothing to help her sore and burning throat. Francis quickly rushed to her side and started to rub and pat her back until the coughs subsided. He half hoped that Jeanne would collapse into his arms, falling limp, but oh-so cute. Much like Matthieu would when he was little and sick. However, she sat straight up, glaring at him with all the pride she could muster.

"Ah, you're awake," Francis said smoothly. "You feel a little hot, _cheri_, you should maybe rest some more. And I must check your bandages in a little while." This only caused the girl's glare to deepen.

"Don't ignore me."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I was just checking your temperature. And the lips are the most sensitive part of the body and the best way to check someone's temperature." Francis replied with a smile, however Jeanne seemed unamused.

"Yes and there will be other areas of your body that will be sensitive if you do that again," she said dangerously. To anyone else, the threat would have seemed oddly, well, threatening. But to Francis, it was rather silly and he laughed it off much to her annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry, but I wanted to make sure you were alright. Which, by the way you are not—"

"I'm fine!" Jeanne shouted. "I—"

"Hush," Francis said kindly but firmly. "Jeanne, you are not 'fine.' In fact, you are very sick and injured. You have a stab wound on your shoulder and at least a 38 fever. You are to stay in bed until you are better and I will take care of you."

"I don't need to be taken care of," Jeanne insisted. "I'm fine. It's nothing more than a cold and a little scratch." It was a stupid comment, but she was still going to try. Being bedridden was not something she particularly wanted to be. What she wanted most was to make sense of why she was here in this time period with Francis.

Francis frowned at the girl and crossed his arms, much like a parent would to a badly behaved child. "Jeanne," he said firmly. "You are sick. Sick enough to make me worry a lot. I nearly called the hospital! If your temperature had been any higher, you would have woken up in a hospital and not in my house." He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently touching the white bandage on Jeanne's shoulder. "And I would hardly call that a scratch. It's a deep wound, almost as bad as the one you got when—" he stopped himself, not wanting to relive the memory at the moment or have Jeanne brush it off. "It's not just a scratch," he finished weakly.

Jeanne looked at him and huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She didn't like being babied or having to stay in bed, but not only did Francis seem firm about it, he also seemed really worried. Sighing, she rested back, feeling tired and not up for an argument. This seemed to make Francis very happy as he smiled brightly.

"Thank you," he murmured, though she hadn't said anything. But her body language showed that she was going to back off a bit and let him take care of her. At least, he hoped he would. "Now!" he said brightly. "Are you hungry? I made a wonderful breakfast, courtesy of _moi_ that I know you will love!" It was no secret to him that Jeanne loved his cooking and could bring a smile to her face even when she was mad.

She sighed and nodded, suddenly feeling tired from exerting so much energy when she wasn't well. Francis offered a soft smile and she rolled her eyes and looked down at the hardwood floor. Francis placed the tray over her legs and she looked down at the assortment of food. She picked up the rose and Francis beamed. Looking up at him, she couldn't help but smile. He always had to be so extravagant. She set it to the side with care before picking up the silverware and starting to eat.

Francis noticed her wincing as she moved her injured shoulder, but he knew better than to ask about it. She would just get mad, say she didn't need any help, and refuse to speak with him. Maybe it would be for the best to not tell her what the pills were for. But that was illegal, wasn't it? Francis frowned. Well, okay. There probably wasn't a law against not telling a girl reincarnated from the past what was in a pill she was going to take. But it still wasn't right.

"Are you feeling alright?" Francis asked lamely, trying to break the silence. She looked up at him and nodded as she swallowed.

"I'm fine," she responded.

Francis smirked. "That's becoming your catch phrase you know." This commented earned him a glare as Jeanne put another piece of food in her mouth. He sighed and sat down on the side of the bed as she finished her meal and the glass of milk.

"_Merci_," she said simply and handed him the tray which he put on the nightstand. He looked back at the girl with a frown.

"You're welcome," he said. She nodded and looked down. "What's wrong, Jeanne?" He could tell when something was wrong and she didn't want to let anyone know.

"Nothing," was the answer which Francis fully expected.

"Jeanne..." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth disapprovingly. "Why are you hiding your feelings from me? We are friends, are we not?" He looked at her pleadingly. Surely they were still friends. They had to be! Six hundred years couldn't have made them drift apart! Okay... Well, Francis never forgot about her. He thought about her nearly everyday. Surely she hadn't forgotten their friendship.

She looked at him for a long moment before finally nodding. "_Oui_, we are friends," she said, but didn't go on.

"And as your friend, you can tell me anything..." Francis prompted.

"_Oui_, I know I can," the girl said simply. Now Francis was growing aggravated with her and he shot her a glare.

"So, tell me what's wrong! Jeanne, you can't shut me out like this! You can't pretend everything's fine when it's not! I'm here to help you, Jeanne. Why won't you let me? I don't want to lose—" He stopped himself and shut his mouth before looking away. Jeanne looked up at him with a frown.

"You don't want to lose what?" she pressed.

"You."

Jeanne was quiet, her expression changing from frustration to guilt. She sighed and gently touched Francis' hand. "I'm sorry," she said simply. "I'm just confused... And frustrated because I'm confused."

Francis looked back up at her, his smile having returned. "And you don't think I'm confused, _cheri_?" He chuckled a bit. "I never thought the girl I ran over with my car would be Jeanne d' Arc come back to life." She rolled her eyes.

"And I never thought I'd get hit by that... Thing." She frowned at the memory, not liking the new technology. Francis chuckled again and stood. He went into the bathroom and came back with fresh bandages.

"Alright, then. Let's take a look at that wound." Jeanne frowned, but lifted the sleeve, not in the mood to put up a fight. Francis sat on the edge of the bed and gently unwrapped the bandages. They were bloodstained, but not too bloody. All of it was dry; it had long since stopped bleeding. It was red, but that was normal. It wasn't infected nor was it oozing which made Francis relieved beyond belief. He put some disinfectant on it, making the girl wince, but try to hide it. He then wrapped it up and she rolled her shoulder to get used to the bandage.

"Better?" Francis asked hopefully.

"Much," Jeanne admitted and rested back against the pillows, letting out a cough. Francis instantly remembered the fever and got out the pills.

"Here, I need you to take two of these," he said. "You just put them in your mouth and swallow them, no big deal." Jeanne took the two white tablets and frowned.

"What are they?"

"They're called pills and they'll help bring down your fever and make the cold symptoms ease up a bit," Francis explained and handed her a glass of water.

"Well I'm fine. I don't need them," Jeanne said and tried to hand the pills back, but Francis pushed them onto her.

"Then just take them for the sake of it," he pleaded. He knew that she was not 'fine.' That she must have been in pain of some sort. She was too stubborn to take the pills, but he wanted her to be comfortable. "Please?"

She sighed, too tired to put up and fight and swallowed the pills as asked. She paused for a few moments before glaring. "They haven't done anything."

"They will," Francis chuckled. "You need to give them a few minutes." Plus, her body wasn't used to medicine. She wouldn't have a tolerance built up against the pills so they should work like a charm. He stood to get the tray and smiled and Jeanne.

"You should get some more rest, _cheri_. You seem tired." Francis smirked. "You haven't said 'I'm fine,' for a good two seconds." She glared at him and got back under the covers.

"Shut up and let me sleep," she mumbled. Francis chuckled and wished her a good rest before going downstairs. He washed out the dishes and glasses before returning to be sure she had fallen asleep.

Jeanne was curled under the covers, but her expression was relaxed and peaceful. The pills must have worked perfectly. He turned off the light and paused before leaning down to press a kiss on her forehead. Unconsciously, she smiled making Francis smile brightly before leaving the room in the peaceful stillness.

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><p><em>Now that you have healed her wounds and helped her recover from her sickness, whatever are you going to do, dear Francis? She knows nothing of this strange world. And don't you dare just shove her into the deep end of the pool or she'll come back with a shark. She must be taught how the world works now, though she might pretend to know it all. Of course she doesn't, so help her out. She wants to be independent, so respect that wish. Just don't ever let her go.<em>

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><p><strong>*38 in Celcius is about 100.4 Farenhite.<strong>

**Can you tell what pairing I'm focused on right now? Sorry! I can't help it! I love these two so much It's not even funny! They've become my second OTP ;;**

**Uhm... So I kinda cut this chapter off because I'm sick and stuff, so whatever. Besides, she can't be sick forever! That's not the point! So, next chapter she learns about the world! Yay!**

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! I never expected it, since most people in this fandom really like Yaoi and sometimes don't give the Het pairings a fighting chance xD  
>But anyway, review and I'll love you forever!<strong>

**OH! And because I love promoting myself, I have a new tumblr France x Jeanne head canon blog at francexjeanneheadcanon . tumblr . com **


	5. Don't Ask How

_Now it's time to help Jeanne learn the ways of this world. Good luck to you, Francis, you'll need it. And I would also advise you to _not_ have that meeting at your house. But you'll do as you please, so don't listen to me. I'm only God~_

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><p>In a few days, Jeanne was back to normal for the most part. She still had a bandage on her shoulder and her cold hadn't gone away completely, but she would be damned if she allowed Francis to keep her in bed any longer. Many times she had gotten up, insisting she was alright, only to be pushed back down into bed and told to rest just a bit longer. If Francis had it his way, she would be in bed for a week, just to be sure. However, Jeanne would never allow that and he relented after the third day, telling her she could get up in the morning.<p>

It was never boring, staying in bed, and even Jeanne would admit that. Francis always came up and sat with her. Even when he had to do paperwork, he would bring it up with him and work on it when she slept. When she was awake, they simply talked and it was just like old times. It was never about anything serious; usually, they just talked about the weather. Sometimes Jeanne would ask what a certain item in the room was, such as the television, the lamps, or the iPod. Francis would tell her and show her how to use the items. She took great interest in the television, but didn't care for it much. Still, they would sometimes sit and watched soap operas or movies based on plays.

At nine in the morning, the light tapping of footsteps was heard on the stairs, causing Francis to look up from his book. He smiled, seeing Jeanne making her way downstairs.

"Ah, good morning, Jeanne. I trust you slept well?" He asked with a smile, placing the gold and maroon satin book mark in between the pages to mark his place before shutting the novel with a small thump. Jeanne looked over at him and nodded.

"Yes, thank you," she responded and glanced at the novel which now sat on the table. She had never learned to read, but also never told Francis, or anyone, that. It was her secret as she was always afraid of being put down because she couldn't read even the simplest of words.

"And I hope you are feeling better as well," Francis smiled as he stood up and made his way over Jeanne who was picking at her clothes. She hadn't been able to get used to the strange new fashions. What made it worse was that they were Francis' and large on her. She finally got the top adjusted to her liking and looked up at him, nodding.

"Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you. Though I do think I would have been fine getting up yesterday." Francis chuckled, making her glare.

"Well, now that you're better, we must go get you some new clothes." She paused for a moment, looking at him.

"New clothes?" she finally asked, crossing her arms. "Francis, I do not need new clothes. These are fine for nightwear, I suppose, and I have a blouse and skirt. I am all set."

"Yes, if you lived in the 1400s," Francis sighed. "But, Jeanne, the times have changed! You watched the television with me; the styles have changed. People are wearing different styles of clothes that are far better and nicer than a dirty blouse and tattered skirt that, honestly, does nothing for your figure." At this, the girl's face erupted into a fierce blush, tinting the tips of her ears pink.

"I-I do not have a nice figure!" she sputtered. "And I do not need clothing that shows it off. How dare you imply that I would wear clothes that showed off my body like some harlot!"

"_Non, non!_" Francis said, holding up his hands in defense, though his large smirk showed he wasn't frightened at all by Jeanne. "I am simply saying that in this day and age, you cannot live off of two sets of clothing and we must get you some more clothes. I would never make you wear something you were uncomfortable with; you know that. However, I think a trip to a clothing store is in order and I shall whip up a lovely breakfast before we hit the town and get you something more stylish."

Her arms crossed firm, Jeanne looked as though she wouldn't relent. However, Francis did have a point. There was no way she could live the rest of her life with two outfits that would waste away after a few more washes. "Fine," she finally mumbled, looking away, her cheeks still tinted pink. "But I'm paying you back."

This was something Francis was not quite expecting. He knew that Jeanne had a great sense of pride and would try to pay someone back when she felt she was in debt to them, however he also knew that she had no money to her name at this point in time. "Jeanne... How do you plan to do that?" he asked cautiously, trying to sound kind.

The other paused for a moment, obviously having spoken before thinking about what she was saying. "I just will," she said simply. She then turned to face him with a look of determination. "I'll help you clean around the house. I'd offer to cook, but it seems you enjoy that, so I shall clean the home and tend to a garden if you have or want one." Francis frowned. This made her sound like a maid and she was his friend, not a servant.

"No," he said shortly and she glared.

"What do you mean '_non_?'"

"I mean, _non_, I will not allow you to act as a servant in my household," he replied firmly. "You are my guest, my friend, and I will not have you waiting on me."

"I never said I'd wait on you, I just said—"

"And _I'm_ saying that I'll pick up the tab for your new clothes." He shot her a small smirk. "I have a feeling you'll be able to pay me back in someway, someday." He patted her shoulder as he passed her to go into the kitchen. "Come, now. Let's eat! I have a simply splendid recipe for pancakes given to me by my dear Matthieu!" Jeanne opened her mouth to shout after him, but closed it and followed with a pout.

* * *

><p>When breakfast was over, Francis decided to show Jeanne how the sink worked. She had finished first and stood up with her plate, insisting on doing the dishes as payment for the meal. At first, Francis was going to say no simply because he didn't want the girl to feel she had to do chores as payment. However, it was the perfect chance to prove to her that she couldn't do everything because she didn't know how things worked.<p>

"Well?" she asked, glaring at him slightly, thinking he was going to shoot down her offer to help. "Where is the wash basin?" Francis did his best to stiffle a laugh so as to safe himself from a harsher glare.

"Jeanne, dear, we don't have a wash basin anymore," he said kindly. "Well, we do, but it's called a sink. The water turns on automatically, so the dishes get clean without too much work." Jeanne looked completely and utterly confused, making Francis chuckle a bit. "Come, I'll show you."

He stood and lead her over to the sink which was under a bright window. Sun streamed onto the hardwood floor though the white drapes that decorated the window, making the counter sparkle. Jeanne looked at the pipes and knobs in confusion, but couldn't hide back the look of childish curiosity. Her expression made Francis smile.

"Here is the cold water," he explained, pointing to a silver knob on the side of a long silver pipe. "And the other is hot water. The hot comes on automatically and ther eis no need to boil it over a fire like in the old days."

Jeanne looked at him with disbelief and Francis turned the knob. Clear, colorless water pulsed from the tap, making Jeanne gasp loudly.

"Magic, it must be magic," Jeanne whispered, staring at the water. It was amazing, really, to think that the world had come so far and could not produce water at the blink of an eye. Her amazement at this made Francis chuckle.

"_Non_, _cheri_, it is not magic," he smiled. "it is merely new technology." He took a dirty dish and stuck it under the water. The pressure made some crumbs was away. Taking a blue sponge, Francis wiped off the rest of the left over food and soon the plate looked nearly clean. "There. Now, we just put it in here. At the side of the sink below the cabinet was a small white compartment. He put the white plate on one of the racks and closed it.

"What is that?" Jeanne asked, completely awestruck.

"It is called a dishwasher," Francis explained. "You put indirty dishes and it cleans them good as new!"

"How?" the girl asked simply. Francis shrugged. "It just does. I know it might be hard to trust his new technology, but trust _me_, it does work. I've been using it since they first went on the market and, aside from having to replace them every so often, they have never failed me." Jeanne just nodded, staring at the running water. Francis smiled at her, trying to keep himself from 'awwing.' He thought it was simply adorable that she was so amazed by something that really wasn't that amazing to those who had grown used to these things all their life. "Here, you try."

He handed Jeanne the other dirty dish and she simply looked at it for a moment. She then put it under the running water and scrubbed it with the blue sponge before setting it on a rack. Francis smiled at her. "Good. Now, you just turn the water off like this..." He twisted the knob. "And then you're done. You now just have to wait for the dishwasher to finish."

Finally getting her voice back, but still sounding utterly amazed, Jeanne said, "I cannot believe how much has change... why, if we had that way back then..." She trailed off and Francis nodded knowingly.

"A lot has changed, but you will get used to it, _mon cher_," he said with a smile. "Now, go get dressed. Then, I'll take you to a cute little tailor and get you some proper clothes. Jeanne rolled her eyes at that, still not wanting to be bought new clothes, but did as she was told and went upstairs to change.

* * *

><p>A half hour later, Francis and Jeanne stood outside in the bright sun, staring at the car. Jeanne had her arms crossed at the contraption, her feet planted and her jaw set.<p>

"Oh, Jeanne," Francis sighed, "It isn't going to hurt us. And it will take us all day to get to town and back without it."

"It's too loud," she said simply.

"It's one of the quietest on the market."

"Because that makes it all better."

"_Cher_, I would not put you in something that could possibly hurt you," Francis said kindly, "And I am a very safe driver. I've been driving since they first came out in this country and they are wonderful." Jeanne still frowned and looked as though she was just going to walk back inside. However, after a long moment of contemplation, she got in the passenger's side and Francis closed the door before getting in himself.

He drove slower than the speed limit for her so she wouldn't be scared. She seemed to tense for much of the ride, but relaxed as the drive wore on. By the time they got to town and parked, she was relaxed, but still didn't seen to enjoy the car very much.

Soon, Francis parked in a lot behind a group of buildings. He helped Jeanne out of the car and together, they walked out to the main street. Being a smaller town, there weren't a lot of people walking around. Cars drove up and down the street, much to the girl's displeasure, but the speed limit was lower, so they weren't too obnoxious.

She did appreciate the cleanliness of the area. Flower pots hung from the sleek black streetlamps, attracting butterflies and bees. The street was evenly paved in black tar and the yellow lines appeared vividly without any cracks in the paint. The sidewalk blocks were divided evenly by simple, shallow cracks. Stores painted all different colors lined the sidewalks, displaying their best products in the windows. Flowers sat in boxes in the windows of the apartments above the stores.

Francis noticed a small smile dancing on Jeanne's lips and felt proud that he had brought her somewhere she seemed to like. He led her to a small store painted lime green and, like the others, decorated with flowers. As he pushed the door open, a thin bell ran and a sweet scent surrounded them.

A woman in a baggy multicolored dress sat at the desk in the back. She looked up as the bell's last note died with a warm smile playing at her thin lips. Her hazel eyes sparkled at the prospect of customers and flickered with a hint of uncertain recognition at one of them.

"Hello!" She said, her voice light an airy. "Welcome to—" She stopped and took another look at Francis. "Why, Francis, is that you? What are you doing here? And who is your lovely little friend?"

"Ah, Dominique, it is so lovely to see you," Francis said with a light smile. "I am pleased to see you are in good health. This is Jeanne." He gestured to her. "We are in need of a full wardrobe for her and you are the only one fit for the job."

Dominique smiled confidently and nodded, standing up from her stool and making her way gracefully over to the two. "I see. Well, I will be more than happy to assist you. But, by a full wardrobe, do you mean..." She trailed off hesitantly, her gaze flickering between Jeanne (and her outdated clothes) and Francis.

"A full and complete wardrobe," Francis finished. He paused for a moment to think up a tale to tell the woman as he could not say that Jeanne was actually Jeanne d' Arc come back to life. "Jeanne is a good friend of mine who's house burned in a fire yesterday. I have opened my home to her, but, alas, none of her clothing survived the flames. So, we need a completely new wardrobe for her." Dominique nodded.

"I see, you poor dear," she said sympathetically, "I will make you the best and most fashionable clothes on the market. Anna! Come here and take measurements." A small, mouse-looking girl appeared from a room in the back. She smiled shyly at Francis and Jeanne and motioned for the young woman to follow her. Jeanne looked a bit apprehensive, but Francis nudged her inconspicuously and offered an encouraging smile. Pausing another moment, she followed Anna to the room in the back.

"Now," Francis said, turning to Dominique. "Jeanne is a bit... ah... conservative. So nothing too flashy, if you please."

"Hmm... Something fashionable, but conservative..." Dominique mused. She then smiled a bit. "I think I can work with that. Please, take a seat and your friend will be out in a little bit." Francis nodded and sat down on the velvet plush couch while Dominique disappeared into the back of the store.

* * *

><p>Francis sat in silence for the next hour and fifteen minutes. He kept himself entertained by looking out the window and watching the people walk by on the sun-bathed street. He also played with his phone, sending a few texts to his best friends. He had still not told them about Jeanne.<p>

The door opened and Dominique entered the main part of the store, looking rather pleased with herself. Anna came out after her and together they parted the red curtains that covered the back room. "Presenting Jeanne!"

Francis gasped, his smile widening. Jeanne entered the room, pulling at the unfamiliar clothes. She wore a deep, dark blue shirt with three quarter sleeves and a hem that just showed her collar bones. The top was baggy around the middle, but cradled her chest nicely. The pants were flared white jeans with barely visible pockets that hugged her hips. For shoes, she wore simple blue flats that matched her top. Completing the outfit was a simple, transparent scarf with a purple hue around her neck. A simple blue headband graced Jeanne's head and a costume jewelry bracelet rested on her left wrist.

"_Mon Dieu,_ Jeanne!" Francis breathed, walking towards her. What should he say? She looked beautiful? Wonderful? Amazing. Amazing would have to do, but it didn't cover it. "You look amazing. Those clothes fit you perfectly." Jeanne flushed and straightened up.

"They're odd," she replied haughtily.

"You'll get used to them, _cher_," Francis promised. "But they're just wonderful! I certainly hope the others are just as nice."

"Oh, they are!" Dominique promised. "Come dear, come. We can try on the others." The woman scurried into the back, followed by Anna. With a sigh, Jeanne followed. Francis laughed quietly a he caught a death glare from her.

Jeanne spent the next hour and a half trying on clothes ranging from everyday war to nightwear to formal wear. She felt like a dress-up doll and huffed constantly. Unlike most girls her age (or better, of the time she was in now), she didn't like shopping for new clothes and the especially didn't like the new clothes themselves. Her old ones were just fine! Francis had to do his best to not laugh at her attitude or pouting face.

Finally, they were finished trying on all of the clothes and Dominique and Anna helped the other two pack up the boxes and put them in the car. Francis then went back inside and paid the bill with his credit card. Jeanne insisted on knowing exactly how much it was, but Francis refused to let her see.

Jeanne wore the first outfit she had tried on as they waved goodbye to the tailors. "Shall we grab something to ear, _cher_?" Francis asked with a smile. Trying not to seem too eager, she simply nodded her head, though she was starving.

Francis smiled again and led her to a small cafe just down the street from where he parked the car. The charming little building was painted pink with earthy brown details. Flowers in pots hung on white hangers and swayed with the light wind. Jeanne smiled at the sight. It looked like a very cute and quaint little cafe.

Francis led her inside and the hostess showed them to a small booth by a flower covered window. He smiled as he saw Jeanne look at the window with pleasure at the flowers. He had certainly picked the right town to come to. She was enjoying herself, he could tell, even if she wasn't used to the new clothes or new inventions of the time period she was now living in. While she might not like the new technology, Francis was certain she would get used to it eventually.

Filling two glasses with water, the waitress set down two menus. Jeanne looked at the laminated paper. "What is this?" she asked, picking it up and looking at the fancy writing.

"That is menu," Francis told her. It was rather cute that she didn't know what these every day things were. "It tells you what the care had to offer to eat and drink. Just look through it and pick something that sounds good."

She looked down at the words she couldn't read. Great. Well, she wasn't about to let Francis know she couldn't lead. If he found out, he would think her to be just a stupid little girl and she wasn't going to allow that, at least not now. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. She just didn't want to be looked down upon, especially by Francis, though she should have known that the last person who would look down upon her would be him. Either way, she was just going to bluff.

"What are you getting?" she asked after a moment.

"Hmm.." Francis thought a moment. "I was thinking of getting the club sandwich."

"Me too!" Jeanne said so quickly that Francis raised an eyebrow. Sure she didn't know what a club sandwich was, but she couldn't risk asking for something that wasn't on the menu.

"Alright, then," he said, felling that it was not a mere coincidence that they both decided upon the same thing, but knew better than to press it. The waitress came by and he ordered for them both. Jeanne was extremely relieved that her plan worked. Of course, she didn't bother to realize it would get difficult to hide the fact that she couldn't read as the days went on.

Francis watched as Jeanne gazed out the window, absentmindedly playing with her scarf. He knew it sounded creepy, but he loved watching her. As much as she tried to act older than she was, she looked like a young, curious child as she took in the strange surroundings of this new world. He promised himself that he would teach her everything she needed to know about it.

"How?" he heard her whisper and he tilted his head. He opened his mouth to question her, but she spoke again before he could. "How am I here?" Francis paused. Honestly, he didn't know. Jeanne looked at him as though he ought to know, but he had no clue.

"Does it matter?" he asked weakly, knowing that, yes, it did matter. It mattered a lot.

"Of course it matters!" Jeanne glared at him. "Francis, I should be dead. Long gone. And don't give me that look because you know it's true! I don't know what brought me here or..." she paused and her eyes looked saddened. "Or how long I have."

Francis frowned at her. This was not something he wanted to discuss. The idea of her leaving him again was just too much to bear. Still, they did have to talk about it at some point should something unexpected happen.

"I would hope you have have a life time," Francis said wearily in a quiet voice.

Jeanne glanced back out the window, her eyes following the trail of a car going through the town. She didn't speak for another long moment and when she did, her voice was quieter. "I would hope so as well... But we do not know that. And a life time? A normal person's lifetime or yours?"

Francis looked at her. "I would hope my lifetime."

"As would I, but God's will does not necessarily listen to hope," Jeanne responded wisely. "I know I am not an apparition or a spirit as I can touch and feel and taste. Still, though, I could be here one minute and gone the next and while it is something I certainly do not want, we both know it may happen."

"Then how do we find out for sure?" Francis asked and Jeanne shrugged as he expected her to. "Well, I think we should find out. if... If you do have to go, then I do not want to wake up one day and find you gone without saying goodbye." He had looked away again, suddenly feeling rather upset.

"Francis..." she said as she tried and failed to catch his eye. She was touched and secretly comforted that he cared that much; that he was afraid to lose her again. "Thank you. But if I must leave, I won't go without saying goodbye. I promise," she said firmly. Nothing, not even God would prevent her from doing so.

Francis nodded, but did not respond. They sat in silence until their food came. As it turned out, the sandwich was rather goo, but her mind was too clouded to really taste it. Francis' eyes were unfocused as he was lost in his own thoughts. One might walk by and assume the two were giving each other the silent treatment after a fight.

"Are you ready to go?" Francis asked when their plates were taken. Jeanne nodded, feeling a bit bad that she had dampened the mood. She and Francis stood and left after he set down the money. Together, they made their way back to the car.

After driving in silence, Jeanne couldn't bear it any longer. "Can we not dwell on this any longer?" She asked a bit harshly, causing Francs to look over at her when they stopped at a red light. "It's depressing and stupid. If I do have limited time, why dwell on it? I want to enjoy the time I do have. I don't want to be treated as though I'll crumple to dust and sit in silence while you ponder a question that might never be answered."

Francis paused for a long moment as he continued down the road when the light turned green. Then, his cocky smile returned after being gone for the past hour or so. "You're right," he said. "It does not do to dwell on something we don't know a thing about. How about after we put the clothes away, I teach you how to use the washing machine and then we make a nice dinner?" Jeanne smiled.

"That sounds perfect."

* * *

><p>Days passed happily for the two. They stopped dwelling on the possibility that Jeanne would disappear, though it was still in the macks of their minds. However, they did not sit in silent, depressing thought any longer and instead resolved to enjoy the time they had.<p>

As the days went on, Jeanne also noticed that Francis would have to tuck himself away to work on paperwork for his nation. With the new electronic technology, more meetings were held and more paperwork was due. Many times, Jeanne would sit in his study looking at a book (that she, of course, could not read and only pretended to read to fool Francis) and watch him work. His expression was much more serious while he wrote away on papers and typed on his laptop. His hands ran through his golden blonde hair as he worked on particularly hard economics papers and difficult compromises. Instead of a haughty grin, a thin frown was prominent on his face until he declared that he was done for the night.

Francis sometimes had to leave for the day to go to a meeting. When this would happen, Jeanne would clean the house for him. She had learned how to use the vacuum and had mastered the spray on dusters and Windex. Francis would pretend to be angry with her, saying that she was a roommate and friend and not a maid, but Jeanne would shrug it off before bidding him goodnight.

It soon came that a large world meeting was to be held in Paris, France. Francis was running around more than usual and Jeanne was doing everything she could to help.

"Are you always this anxious when you host a meeting?" Jeanne asked the Frenchman, knowing as much as she needed to about the meetings. She stopped Francis in the hall and straightened his tie for him. Francis noted, with a hint of amusement, that she had been acting a lot like a house wife, though she would not be pleased to hear this.

"Ah, well, it is a big deal for the host country," Francis responded sheepishly as she pulled on his blue tie. "Since nothing gets done at these meetings, it's a bit of a show. The host tries to outdo the previous year's host just to spark a small friendly rivalry. And since last year's host was _Angleterre_, I shouldn't have much of a problem."

He noticed that Jeanne seemed to stiffen at the name and her eyes flickered with a bit of uncharacteristic hatred for the island nation. He had been careful to not mention England around her. Even when he called the other night and Jeanne asked who it was (she was beginning to understand phones and cell phones), Francis had lied and said it was a different country. Jeanne was someone who didn't harbor straight up hatred, but England seemed to be an exception. Who could blame her, though? It was because of him that she had died. At least, it seemed that way. It took Francis the better part of five hundred years to forgive him for her death.

He could acknowledge her stiffness and tell her that England really wasn't that much of a bad guy anymore, but figured that speaking of him in a more direct manner would only end in a fight and Francis had to get going. "Anyway, I believe it is time for me to leave." he said with a smile. "Be good and relax. Please, don't go cleaning around the house, _cher_. It is clean enough."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. "I am not going to sit around, useless." she said firmly, fully intending to pick up. "Now go!" She pushed him to the door. "You will not be late because of me." Francis whined in protest playfully and she shoved him again. "Go!" She was now laughing and he chuckled as well before disappearing out the door.

Jeanne smiled happily, pleased to now have the house to herself. Humming a hymn, she went to the kitchen and got the cleaning supplies out of the cabinet under the sink. Really, if she didn't clean, who would?

* * *

><p>Francis smiled as he sat in the meeting room, glancing around at his fellow nations yelling and chatting amongst themselves. Since Jeanne had come (or better, had come back) into his life, he had started to feel much happier day in and day out. That's not to say that Francis had been an unhappy person since her death, but now the smile he wore almost never slipped off his face, not even when Alfred and Francis' personal rival, Arthur, slipped into the seats on his right.<p>

"What are you so happy about, frog?" Arthur's harsh accented voice cut through the Frenchman's thoughts.

"Iggy! Play nice!" Alfred teased, earning a glare and a smack from said Brit.

"That is not any of your concern, my dear friend," Francis said with a small smirk. "What is the matter? Did Alfie not go hard enough last night?" Both Alfred and Arthur blushed deeply.

"T-That's none of your business!" Arthur stammered and Francis smirked fully. "Well? What are you so happy about? You don't deserve to be happy."

Francis put a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You wound me deeply, Arthur," he sighed. "But, _non, _I met up with an old friend of mine." He smiled fondly, thinking of Jeanne.

"Cool, bro!" Alfred smiled. "Who is it?"

"Oh, just someone," Francis winked.

"Well, do remember that we planned to meet at your home after the meeting tonight to discuss the economics plan," Arthur said. "I certainly hope that you did not forget." Francis froze. Now he remembered, but they had planned this before Jeanne had come back. How would the girl react to seeing the man who helped sentence her to death? Francis had forgiven him, but surely Jeanne wouldn't."

"Oh, right! Of course!" Francis said after a moment, putting on a worried and tight smile. Arthur gave him a look, but said nothing more.

As the meeting wrapped up, Francis was growing more and more nervous. Jeanne was going to kill him. Or Arthur. Or both of them. He gathered up his papers and joined Alfred and Arthur by the door.

"Do you need a ride in my car?" he asked. "Or will you be taking your own?" They made their way to the parking lot where cars and taxis waited.

"We came in our own rental car," Arthur sighed when they came upon a shiny red convertible. "Alfred picked it out." Francis snickered and Alfred grinned, getting in. "I know the way, but we'll follow you." Francis nodded and went to his car.

The Frenchman pulled out his cell phone and called home. He had taught Jeanne how to use the phone and she picked up on the third ring. "Jeanne, _cheri!" _he said with an airy voice, trying not to show the apprehension in his voice. "I am on my way home and will be there shortly. Can you put on a nice dress and get some tea started? I have a few... Guests coming over."

"Oh, of course," she replied. "I will see you when you get home." They hung up then; Jeanne didn't like to speak on the phone. She didn't quite get why one couldn't wait until the other got home and thought the device was silly.

Francis felt bad. He should have told her exactly who was coming, but he didn't want to have an argument over the phone. He just hoped she didn't kill him. He knew she was going to be angry.

Francis pulled up to his house, Alfred and Arthur coming up the driveway behind him. He got out when the other two did, nervousness showing blatantly on his face. "Now this friend with who I have reconnected with... She's staying with me and I must ask that you do not, ah, scare or harass her."

"Dude, you know I would never do that!" Alfred smiled as the three made their way up the walk. _It's not you I'm worried about_, Francis thought with a sigh.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I'm home!" he called out shakily. Looking up, he saw Jeanne come down the stairs in a flower print blue sundress.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she stepped off the last stair. "You sound a bit off."

"No, no, I'm fine," Francis said, waving his hand dismissively. "Uh, Jeanne, I would like you to meet, uh, Alfred and Arthur... I work with them..."

He stepped aside and the two other blondes entered the house. Alfred smiled up at her. "Hey, dude!" he greeted. However, Jeanne did not respond. She was staring at the green eyed Brit, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped. He stared right back at her, a disbelieving look upon his face.

Alfred smiled.

Francis groaned.

Jeanne stared.

And Arthur fainted.

* * *

><p><em>Oh, dear me. Looks like some drama is about to brew. It really wasn't Arthur's fault, Jeanne, not that you would ever listen to anyone. You haven't forgiven him yet and I don't think you will now. Francis, may God help you...<br>Oh wait, that's me and I have waaay too much stuff to do. I don't have time to worry about you! So... Uh... May Jesus help you! Yeah, he's helpful!_

* * *

><p><strong>Dude, that last line, I had to. Please don't kill me and I hope I didn't offend anyone. But yeah. God, Y U so sassy?<strong>

**Anyway, no I'm not dead! Yay for being alive! I'm so sorry for not updating any of my stories. I'm just awful, aren't I? ** **So, I had a reviewer suggest that other countries come in, which I was already planning on doing. It was going to happen next chapter, but I felt so bad that I threw it into one huge chapter!**

**Please review if you can!**


	6. Final Note

Well I guess this is a little late and long overdue.

How is everyone? Good I suppose, right? It's been about two years or so, maybe more, maybe less. Looking back on these works that I published, I see a LOT that needs to be worked on. Now, now, don't say it. Yes, at the time, they were my very best writing, but now? Oh dear GOD no. No, no, no. I cringe at that thought.

I have to say that I've lost inspiration for writing in this fandom, if that hasn't been obvious already. It's too yaoi-obsessed, and frankly, I like the het pairings better. As the years went on I fell in love with fem characters and roleplaying had an effect on me that made my writing and characters change for the better. I still enjoy my yaoi and I adore yuri, but I feel that any het stories I would write wouldn't be as appreciated in the fan fiction fandom

I've also come to realize that writing fan fiction is no longer profitable for me at the moment. I've learned all I can from it. Now it's time for me to really expand my writing abilities and write my own original works. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll see it on the shelves.

I'm not done with Hetalia by any means. I roleplay on Facebook under the name Alfred ChickenNugget Jones. If you're a roleplayer, hit me up! But do keep in mind that my Alfred is straight :)

I am thankful for all that this has taught me. I'm thankful for the friends I made. I'm thankful for that one Spanish class where I goofed off, googled The Secret Saturdays (my favorite show at the time) and stumbled across fan fiction. I'm grateful for my horrid OCs and Mary Sues. And I'm very grateful for the stories I have written here and all the reviews I have received. I added it up once. I think I have a little over 2,000 reviews total. Wow!

Anyway, if this note has not already been obvious enough, I am not continuing any of my stories. I'm really sorry, but please understand that after over a year I have lost all inspiration, I have schoolwork to do, and those stories aren't worth my time. My style has changed and my writing is much better. I don't have time to go back and edit every little thing.

I wish you all luck and good health. I wish you the very best in your writings and readings. I hope you all continue to enjoy the Hetalia fandom as I do, despite its feminizing male characters, yaoi obsessed, fem-hating tendencies. If you're ever looking for a sane fan to talk to, I'm always on my Facebook account :)

Thanks for all the support you have given me. It has gotten me through a lot of hard times. I can honestly say I love you all and I can only wish the best for all of you

~Kat


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